


Love and War

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Azriel loves Mor, F/M, First Time, Mor loves Azriel, Sexy Times, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the final battle with the King of Hybern approaches, everyone says their final goodbyes. Morrigan and Azriel have a talk that's centuries late and finally admit to their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt given to me on tumblr, this is my interruption of Mor and Az's first time, so expect smut.

There was a high probability that one or all of them was going to die.

That was the cost of war, and it was a price they all wanted to try and avoid. 

Each of them had too many years of misery behind them. When the dust settled and they won, they all deserved to be reunited on the other side. To celebrate together as a family. 

Yet they weren't deluded. There had already been so many casualties, so many dead, so many hurt. And there would be more to come.

Tomorrow, they attacked the King of Hybern's stronghold in the heart of the Spring Court. 

With the strongest of their troops, led by the best of their Commanders. Along with their allies from the other courts, the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court would front the assault and everyone had their roles to play. 

Even Tamlin. The beastly Lord who had come crawling to the Court he'd so despised when he'd realized his mistake in making a deal with Hybern. 

He would be the one taking them straight into the heart of his lands so they could suffocate the King right on his comfortable throne.

Tonight however...tonight was the time for celebration. For laughter. For friends. For loved ones.

Few remembered the first great war, but all had felt its effects. 

The camp was alive with laughter and talk and music and dancing.

Above them, the night skies were bright, the smoke of the fires getting lost in the glow of stars. 

Rhysand and Feyre had left first.

The couple shared drinks with their friends, held toasts, sat by the fire and told stories. They smiled and laughed, and took in each face. Each individual a reason to put everything they had into the fight which waited them on the horizon. 

As the evening continued, they bid their goodnight, lingering longer than normal. This could be the last time they were all together like this. 

The Lady and Lord left together, to spend their remaining hours together as mates should. 

Cassian and Nesta followed not long after. 

The two still bickered like animals, yet helping Cassian heal along with weeks of intensive training in the Illyrian camps, had made the pair almost inseparable. Even if they didn't speak of the bond they had, everyone could see it and no one was surprised when they left quietly to Cassian's tent.

There was no point made as people left with one another. If this was a last night in the world, why shouldn't they experience whatever pleasures and comforts they could? 

Amren was draped across the lap of a young strapping man from the Summer Court, while also leaning towards a beautiful lady from the Day Court, her fingers knotted in the woman's red hair. 

Mor had been chatting softly with a few of the female Illyrian warriors. They were nervous. It was the first time women had fought a battle from the skies in the name of the Night Court. Cassian would lead them well, and Nesta had done her part in helping to shape them into warriors. 

From his shadowed cocoon by the fire, Azriel had watched her. Despite the threat that the dawn would bring, Morrigan looked relaxed. One of the few who insisted on wearing a soft, easy flowing dress despite the less than desirable conditions of the war camp. 

It was floor length, the navy chiffon material grazing the dirt coated ground, lifting to a clasp at the back of her neck, the plunge at her neckline deep, exposing soft skin. Her blond hair fell in gentle curls across her shoulders and along her back, glinting with the light of the flames. 

It didn't seem natural that such a beautiful creature was marching into battle, but Azriel knew that Mor was capable. Frankly, he believed she could bring the whole of Prythian to it's knees if she wanted. 

Eyes of the deepest brown met his own and the Fae in question offered him a gentle smile, perfect lips curved upwards, inviting him to come closer if he so desired.

Azriel never had, though he had certainly wanted to. For almost all of their living relationship.

With a small bow of his head, the Shadowsinger rose to his feet, turning on heel in order to retreat to his tent.

Some goodbyes just weren't possible to speak aloud. Everything he wanted to say to her were words that were now too far gone to speak. 

It seemed easier if they parted ways without any fuss.

Strangers passing in the night.

The tent was dark as Azriel entered, illuminated only by the flicker of the camp fires as he staggered within the small space to find a lamp, letting the warm glow fill the small area. It was a modest set up. A deep bunk with heavy blankets, a table which had various marked maps thrown across it and a jug of water perched on the edge. It was practical. So was life in an army.

With his wings tucked slightly, so as not to damage the canvas of the tent with his talons, Azriel slid off his jacket, swiftly followed by his shirt, casting them across the back of the chair which sat tucked at the table of maps.

“Knock, knock.”

Mor had been silent in her approach, yet her soft voice filled the air around him, her silhouette unmistakable through the fabric of his tent entrance. It seemed a goodbye was necessary after all. 

“Come in,” Az murmured, perching on the edge of his bunk, scarred hands clasped together as the woman slid through the flap, her chiffon covered body seeming so very out of place among the raw practicality of his tent. 

“You left without saying goodbye,” There was a soft chiding tone to Mor's voice as she crossed to the table, tracing her finger over one of the maps, following the attack strategy marked out on the parchment. 

“I didn't want to interrupt. The females have been looking to you for reassurance,” That was only partially true. Yet in all the centuries they had been together, since he had found her with that nail through her broken body, Az still couldn't bring himself to admit willingly the love he felt for her in his heart. Perhaps it was tragic, to return to the Mother without ever letting the woman know how much she was adored. But neither would he distract her with such sentiment. 

For a few long moments, as if weighing the tension between them, Mor was silent, her back to the Spy Master as she admired the maps without really paying attention to them. 

“Do you remember the night we escaped from Hybern? When I sat with you?”

The words were like ice water being thrown over Azriel. How could he forget? When they'd gotten back and pried the ash bolt from his chest, the fever had taken hold of him, and without Feyre present, it had been harder to procure an antidote for the bloodbane in his veins. For hours, Azriel had been locked in a haze, skin soaked with sweat, body wrenching with pain. Mor had never left his side. Her cool hand his only anchor to the world. “I remember.”

“Do you remember begging me not to leave you? And then telling me you love me?”

The Shadowmaster felt like a hand was tightening around his throat. It was a vague recollection. He had been terrified. Scared that if Morrigan left, there would be nothing there to stop him from slipping into the warm, permanent darkness. And if he were to die, he had wanted her to know. Know that he loved her. His fevered body hadn't been confined with the restrictions he normally placed on himself when he'd stuttered those words into the mist of the world around him.

When the antidote had taken hold and the fever had faded, even with Mor still by his side when he'd woke clear minded and healed, they hadn't spoke about it. Ignoring everything that had been said, even if the woman had looked like she was waiting. Waiting for Azriel to bring it up so they could figure this out. But he never had. 

“Yes.”

The words were a croak from the Shadowsinger as he sunk into his shadows, letting them envelop him, wanting to disappear entirely into the darkness as Mor moved to face him. “And do you still feel that way?”

“Mor-”

“Just answer the question, Az.”

Silence. Azriel wanted to Winnow away in that moment. Far away from this conversation. Yet he knew in the way Morrigan was standing that the woman was not going anywhere until she got her answer, and if he Winnowed, she would follow.

“Yes.”

Again, silence.

A shuffle of fabric and the bed dipped next to Azriel as Mor sat herself beside him. Without speaking, she reached over to find his hand through the shadows which engulfed him, lacing their fingers together. 

“Any of us could die tomorrow, Az. And we've been avoiding this conversation for centuries.”

After everything which had happened with Cassian, Mor had made the promise that she would never involve herself with her or Rhysand's friends. That the Inner Circle in particular was strictly platonic. Men and women grazed her bed, and she knew Azriel had his fair share of lovers as well, and yet, they always ended up back at each others sides, whether it was at Rita's or in the same tent of an army camp.

“I'd happily avoid it for a little longer.”

The man's grumble baited a soft chime of laughter from the blond and she moved to rest her head against his shoulder, breathing out a soft sigh.

“I love you too, Az.”

They all loved each other. Cassian and Rhys like brothers. Amren like a crazy Aunt who had adopted them all. Yet Mor's admittance was more than platonic. It was spoken in a gentle whisper. A secret of a lifetime. A love long hidden now freely offered.

Azriel had nothing more to say. A man of few words naturally, he let instinct guide him, lifting his hand to tilt her chin so he could press their lips together.

The kiss was gentle, yet Azriel drunk in the feel of Mor's lips, the taste of her skin, the warmth of her hand as she slipped her fingers against his bare chest and when they broke apart, it was only so he could feel her breath brush against his mouth. 

Even in the dull light of the tent, Morrigan was the epitome of perfection, and his scarred hand tucked against her flawless cheek seemed out of place. Unworthy in contrast. 

As if sensing where his mind was, the blond leaned in to catch Azriel's lips with her own once more. This time it was hungry, filled with the feelings and desires of centuries, letting everything spill into that moment between them. They didn't know what the dawn would bring but at least they would have tonight. 

A near growl rattled in Azriel's throat as Mor pulled from him, rising to her feet in front of him. Maybe that was it. Their final goodbye.

With a certain fluidity to her motions, the blond took a handful of her curls, pulling them over her should so she could reach the clasp at the back of her neck, undoing it so her dress began to tumble from her body like waves, revealing more and more beautiful skin until the fabric was nothing more than a pool at her legs and every inch of her stood exposed before him.

The last time he had seen Mor naked she had been broken and bloodied, discarded by her family with a nail through her. That was an image that even centuries later, he had struggled to forget. But she was no longer that broken little girl. Here she stood. Controlled, confident. A woman who made her own choices and was not to be taken lightly. Mor had ascended beyond what her family had tried to make her, and Azriel felt pride swell in his chest. The kind he felt every time she made it clear that whatever she did, she did for herself.

Azriel leaned forward, pressing his hand to the firm length of her abdomen, no longer marked or bloodied, before curling his arm around her back to draw her forward and down into him, her legs settling on either side of his hips.

He traced her spine, admiring the little shudder that washed through her, at the same time, his lips settled at the dip between her neck and shoulder. Az was careful as he kissed along the skin, only just letting his teeth graze her pulse point, soothed by his tongue. 

Mor's fingers tangled within the strands of his dark hair, tugging his head back so she could kiss him again. The bunk wasn't ideal, the tent itself didn't offer much privacy but she didn't care. She couldn't have cared if they were in the middle of the camp, naked and rutting for all to see. 

When they broke apart this time, it was only so Az could lift her, laying her down on the bunk and settling himself above her, granting himself better access to her bared body.

His head dipped to the swell of her breast, kissing over the flawless skin, his tongue curling around her hard nipple, teeth only just grazing the sensitive flesh before he lifted his head to deliver the same attention to her other breast.

The moans which spilled from Mor were the most beautiful sounds Az had ever heard, and he wanted more. Wanted to lap up any and every noise that he could bait from her. 

Rough fingertips crept along her thigh, the blond instinctively parting her legs further, arching her hips until his hand was against her and a low guttural growl rattled deep in the pit of Azriel's chest as he found her delightfully wet. 

In the dim light, he found her lips, as he traced her folds, teasing her avoiding her center and clit until she too was snarling against his lips, her nails digging into the strong muscles of his shoulders, just above where his wings were tucked safely against his back.

Smirking against her mouth, he took the hint, sliding a single finger inside of her, enjoying the feel of her, tight and wet as he added a second digit until Mor was rocking her hips steadily against his touch, making it evident what she wanted and striving to get it. 

He set into a firm pace, thrusting his fingers and crooking them in the exact spot which made her gasp against his lips. Cauldron, she was too much.

This time when Az found her neck, he bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough that when the cry passed Mor's lips, her back arched and she came against his hand.

Never did he believe that he would be lucky enough to see her in such a beautiful state. 

Mor's cheeks were flushed, her blond curls splayed beneath her as her chest rose and fell in quick pants, a smile playing on her lips. 

“You are perfection,” Azriel murmured, finding that he couldn't contain his own grin as he looked down at her. How had he wasted centuries of having this? 

“I'm not done with you yet.”

Despite the small space of the bunk, Mor shifted their bodies, careful as she pressed the Spy Master down onto the bed so as not to cause even the slightest bit of discomfort to his wings.

As her hips settled against his, the woman could feel him hard beneath the fabric of his pants and a deliberate rock of her body was enough to bait a hiss from Az's tensed jaw. 

Mor's gold curls tickled his skin as she leaned down, taking his scarred hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and kissing along the marked skin gently. When it came to the burns, she felt no disgust. Only hatred towards those who had ever hurt him. But Azriel was beautiful. To her, he was perfection as well.

Guiding that same hand to her breast, Mor focused her attentions on his pants, unfastening the buckles and helping to ease them down his legs, until Azriel was able to kick them the rest of the way off, leaving him as bare to the world as she was. 

The man was hard, as impressive as she had always imagined given the size of his wings and the apparent correlation between that and other parts, as they had all boasted at one point or another.

Azriel's hands found her hips as she took the base of his length in her grip, lifting her hips to bring him to her entrance, feeling the nudge of him against her before she sank down slowly onto the fullness of his cock. He stretched her, filled her, until he was completely sheathed inside of her.

Their breathing mingled in the quiet tent, heavy, quickened pants as Mor still herself, adjusting to him and enjoying the feel of finally being that close to him. Completed by him. Az's nails only just dug into the skin of her hips, almost overwhelmed by the sensation of her. 

When they settled into a pace, there was nothing gentle about it. Maybe one day they would have the time to lay in bed for hours upon hours, making love and memorizing each others bodies. Tonight they did not have such luxury.

Az's scarred hand lifted to tangle within Mor's soft curls, her long nails raked along his chest, leaving long, angry marks that would fade before they were finished. His thrusts up into her were powerful and rough, and with eager moans, she angled her body to take him deeper.

With Mor's name on his lips, uncaring about the thin fabric of the tent and those still present in the camp outside, Azriel came, buried deep within her, sitting up to encircle her with his arms as a few moments later she followed suit, answering his call of her name with a cry of his, tightening around him and shuddering within his strong arms.

For the longest moment, they said nothing. Simply reveling in the heat of one another. The sweat and their touches mingled with the heavy gasps of their breathing. 

Foreheads rested together and when their gazes met, both smiled. Two grins of happiness and bliss. Unmarred by the fear of the future, of what the dawn and war could bring. At least they had this.

Slipping from her, Azriel settled back on the bunk, drawing Mor into his hold. The woman nestled into his arms, pressed against his chest, legs tangled together.

They didn't need to speak any further words, happy to just be lost in one another, pretending the rest of the world and the war which awaited them, no longer existed for what time together they had left.

**Author's Note:**

> Casually throws in the mention of Bisexual everyone because why not?


End file.
